


got drunk on you (and now I'm wasted)

by neonangell



Series: i mess around with him (and i'm okay with it) [2]
Category: Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), Oasis (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry Styles, Butt Plugs, M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, briefly mentioned, i mean there's a plot but it's For The Porn, jesus christ these tags, like...just smut, this is smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonangell/pseuds/neonangell
Summary: “A little birdie told me you added another song to your set list,” Noel said, voice every bit as gruff and demanding as Harry remembered. It was accompanied by the soft click of the door closing. And maybe Harry had added Don’t Look Back in Anger to his setlist. Only his personal copy, scrawled beneath the rest of his own songs in his slanted, messy writing. He had no intention of playing it - there was no reason to, no way for him to give more to that song than Oasis had - but he’d wondered, idly, if it would get back to Noel. If he’d be just as possessive of the integrity of his songs as he had been when Harry had covered Champagne Supernova those months ago. And, judging by the look in Noel’s eye, the fact he’d shown up at all, he was.“Maybe,” Harry said, keeping his attention on his own face reflected back at him in the mirror. “You’d have to be more specific. I made changes a few times.”“I’m pretty fuckin’ sure you know the song I mean, Styles.”or, Harry makes Noel possessive of his songs, so he fucks him against a mirror
Relationships: Noel Gallagher/Harry Styles
Series: i mess around with him (and i'm okay with it) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944286
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	got drunk on you (and now I'm wasted)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I return again with the weirdest crackship in history and present to you some full on sex this time. dedicated again to the lovely [@joshsassceshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshsassceschi/) and my two lovely anonymous commenters on the last part. thank you to whoever asked for more, I hope this satisfies your need <3 any feedback is absolutely welcome.

Harry hadn’t expected it to happen again. Truth be told, he didn’t think Noel had, either. It had been something...not quite spontaneous, but the most satisfying end to the ever-building tension that possibly could have happened. Akin to taking the lid off a pot of boiling water, removing it from the heat, letting it fall back to a gentle simmer. He hadn’t thought things would build back up again.

But he was wrong. They both ended up on the bill for Reading Festival, which generated a fair bit of buzz from his fanbase. Harry Styles and Noel Gallagher, in the same place, at the same time. Exciting.

Harry was lost, though, in his memories of the last time he’d been in the same room with Noel Gallagher. That encounter had filled his wank bank for months after; he could still feel the ghost of Noel’s tight grip in his hair, hear him telling him off for being a slag if he thought long enough. Hookups hadn’t been quite as fun since then, but Noel certainly didn’t deserve the ego-boost of knowing that, nor did Harry think he wanted to be delegated to a booty call for the younger artist. He doubted anything would come of the festival, as far as Noel was concerned, but the possibility wasn’t completely ruled out.

Harry was set up at the center stage, which was definitely an honour, right before Noel was set to play. He wondered, idly, how much glitter was too much, as he leaned against the vanity in his dressing room. The knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts, more of a nuisance than anything. He didn’t get the chance to reply before the person stepped into the room. Not bothering to turn around, Harry lifted his eyes and met Noel’s gaze in the mirror in front of him.

He kept his expression neutral, though his heartbeat had picked up, heart thudding a little too fast in his chest, hidden by his half-buttoned silk shirt, his Gucci suit jacket still on its hanger across the room. Harry didn’t bother saying anything, merely using his finger to gently press a little more gold glitter to his eyelid, knowing Noel would speak first. He inspected himself in the mirror, tilting his head slightly, before leaning forward to add some stray glitter to his cheekbones. It was a festival, after all. Go big or go home.

“A little birdie told me you added another song to your set list,” Noel said, voice every bit as gruff and demanding as Harry remembered. It was accompanied by the soft click of the door closing. And maybe Harry had added Don’t Look Back in Anger to his setlist. Only his personal copy, scrawled beneath the rest of his own songs in his slanted, messy writing. He had no intention of playing it - there was no reason to, no way for him to give more to that song than Oasis had - but he’d wondered, idly, if it would get back to Noel. If he’d be just as possessive of the integrity of his songs as he had been when Harry had covered Champagne Supernova those months ago. And, judging by the look in Noel’s eye, the fact he’d shown up at all, he was.

“Maybe,” Harry said, keeping his attention on his own face reflected back at him in the mirror. “You’d have to be more specific. I made changes a few times.”

“I’m pretty fuckin’ sure you know the song I mean, Styles.” Noel was coming closer, stopping a foot behind Harry. He met his gaze in the mirror again, cool, calm, and collected. This was his element, wasn’t it? There was only one way this was going to end, given their history. And Harry absolutely couldn’t wait. The only thing he had to stay conscious of was not getting too messy, and the fact that he had time constraints. He was due on stage soon.

“Oh, that one?” Harry added a little more glitter, gently tilting his head from side to side to see if it caught the light the way he wanted. It didn’t, not quite yet. He needed it to show up under the stage lights. “I thought about adding it.” He leaned a little more against the vanity in front of him, aware that it made his back arch. “I'm not sure if I will.”

Noel was so close now Harry could feel his breath on the back of his neck, hands ghosting at Harry’s hips. Harry’s heartbeat picked up again. He applied glitter to his other cheekbone, wanting to seem mostly even. “Has anyone ever told you,” Noel said, voice so punctuated and low it was almost a growl, “that you’re an insufferable fuckin’ tease?” He punctuated the question with a sudden, tight squeeze to Harry’s hips, making Harry draw in a sharp breath. As he tried to stand to his full height, Noel was suddenly all the way in his space, hips to Harry’s arse, one hand moving from his hip to the middle of his back, keeping him down. “Don’t move.”

Harry took that as an invitation to shift, testing Noel’s grip. He was met with another tight, bruising hold to his hip, the hand on his back only pressing him down harder. “I told you not to fuckin’ move,” Noel said, leaning down so it was right in his ear. He could feel Noel, too, pressed mostly along his back. But to get up to his ear, even with Harry partway bent over, he was very sure Noel was up on his toes, at least slightly. So Harry went still, even though half of him really wanted to grind backward, where he could feel Noel’s dick pressing against him through the thin fabric of his Gucci trousers, through Noel’s stupid jeans - who wore jeans to a festival, honestly - deciding to see where this went.

“I have lube,” Harry said instead, testing the waters. “In my bag, over on the shelf over there.” He tilted his head in the right direction, curls only shifting slightly, mostly staying in the perfectly-messy style he’d put them in, only forty minutes ago. Hopefully he’d have enough time to fix them after this.

Noel pressed against his back again, before he was pulling back. “Don’t move,” he said, firm and leaving no room for argument. Harry, again, decided it was probably in his best interests to obey, and stayed halfway leaned up against the vanity, in one of the most uncomfortable positions he could have ever imagined.

It didn’t stop him, though, from keeping his head turned so he could watch Noel cross the dressing room to retrieve his bag. It was placed on a higher shelf than Harry remembered, though he really couldn’t bring himself to care, watching Noel, who always liked to seem so strong and composed, whose ego could suffocate a stadium most of the time, have to lift himself on tiptoes to grab it. Harry would absolutely be lying if he said he didn’t admire the length of Noel’s back, his (mostly flat) ass still in those ridiculous jeans. And if they didn’t already have enough incentives to fuck, getting him out of those things would be more than enough. Sometimes he really, really seemed like the middle-aged man he was.

Finally, Noel was on his way back over, bag in hand. He pulled the partly-empty container of lube out, setting it down on the vanity and dropping the bag to the floor next to Harry with a dull thunk. Noel leaned back over Harry again, arm wrapping around him to deftly undo the button on Harry’s pants. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Walk around in expensive shit like you’ve got something to prove.” He got his pants open easily, tugging them down under Harry’s ass. There was no underwear to bother with or get in the way; Harry went commando. With as tight as his pants were, especially around the ass and thighs, underwear always left those dreadful lines. He hated them, so he didn’t bother with underwear at all. And there was something freeing - and maybe a little exciting - about not wearing them, especially in front of a crowd, knowing how many eyes were on his every movement.

Harry heard the click of the lube bottle opening, eyes meeting his own in the mirror before drifting to Noel, behind his shoulder. The older man made no effort to warm the lube up, which was made incredibly apparent when he circled his rim with one finger, cold and slick and messy as he pressed in. It made Harry shift, slightly, but it wasn’t anything new. There wasn’t much to adjust to. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten himself off last night, three fingers in his ass, before a dildo he was sure rivaled the size of Noel’s cock. One finger, even with Noel’s being thicker than his own, was absolutely nothing. “I can take more,” Harry said, trying to meet Noel’s gaze in the mirror.

Noel looked up from where his finger was steadily moving in and out of Harry’s ass, finally meeting Harry’s gaze in the mirror. “Oh, can you?” He drawled. Harry just nodded, not knowing where Noel was going. “I’m sure you can. Slut like you. Practically begged for my cock in your mouth last time. Insatiable little slut, you are. Bet you barely even feel this.”

Harry let out a soft moan, eyes still on Noel. And it was a bit strange, still being able to see himself. He didn’t ever really get to see what he looked like having sex. The narcissist in him wondered if he looked good, if he kept up his pretty image even in the one place he tried not to focus on it. And, seeing himself out of the corner of his eye, his pupils blown wide and irises barely visible, sweat starting to gather in his temples, perfectly messy curls beginning to fall into his face, glitter still where he’d carefully placed it not so long ago, he was very sure that he did.

Harry was taken by surprise when Noel suddenly pushed two more fingers into him, making him shift on the counter. He pressed a hand against the mirror trying to keep holding himself up properly, moan falling from his lips when Noel crooked his fingers just enough to graze his prostate. His eyes flicked up in the mirror, meeting Noel’s in their pristine reflection. Where Harry’s eyes had widened, his collected demeanor slipping, Noel was calm and still in control of himself. Harry would hardly know he was affected if not for how dark his eyes had gotten and, he was sure, if he ground back a few inches, arched his back and pushed his ass backwards , he would hit the evidence of his actions in the form of Noel’s erection, still trapped in tight denim. 

Noel just gave him a smirk, crooking his fingers again and making Harry’s hips jerk. It didn’t take that long, really, before Harry felt a little like he was falling apart, just from Noel’s fingers, talented in playing Harry like an instrument - a guitar, maybe, or a piano, something that involved nimble fingers and actual thought - and Noel’s gaze, still on Harry’s face in the mirror, not even bothering to watch what he was doing. He didn’t bother glancing down, either, where Harry was hard and leaking, one good twist of Noel’s fingers away from saying fuck it and letting the evidence of what probably should have been a one-time-thing hit the tile of the dressing room.

Too soon, it felt like, or maybe a little later than strictly necessary - Harry really hadn’t needed all that much prep at all - Noel was pulling his fingers out with a slick noise that had Harry shifting a little in place again. Noel was back against him quickly, though, and soon enough he was pressing in. His hands were back on Harry’s hips, bare skin to bare skin, hands warm where his fingers creeped beneath his shirt. His fingers were still damp and sticky with lube, pressing tight enough to bruise. Then, at least, he had something else to remember this by. Harry couldn’t help his soft moan when Noel slid all the way in in one short, smooth thrust, the metal teeth of the zipper on Noel’s jeans biting into his ass. Noel hadn’t even bothered sliding his jeans off; not that Harry minded, it only added to the debauchery of the thing.

“Quiet,” Noel said, short and as gruff as ever, the deepness to his voice the only clear tell that he was affected at all, and fuck if Harry didn’t love his composure. “I didn’t lock the door.” Harry’s eyes, wide, met Noel’s in the mirror. The ghost of a smirk was apparent on Noel’s face as he pulled back, slow and teasing, and pushed in again, just as rough and fast as the first time, causing Harry to slump forward a little. 

“I think you get off on this,” Noel continued, fingernails biting slightly into the skin of Harry’s hips as he held him in place, fucking in again, almost effortless, like he wasn’t bothering to regard Harry’s pleasure. “Knowing everyone’s about to have their fuckin’ eyes on you, and you’ll look a right mess out there in front of everyone.” Harry’s curls were falling free, now, dipping into his eyes, sweat no longer just gathering at his temples, but dripping freely. He could feel it sliding down the back of his neck, in his hair, gathering at the dip of his spine, the curve of his ass.

“Yeah,” Harry managed, breathless and posture ruined, and they’d only just started. But really, they’d had months of foreplay, of build-up, of sleepless nights Harry spent with his hand down his pants, fingers curled tight around himself - or in himself - to the memory of Noel, the way he’d tasted, hot and heavy in his mouth, and the gruff authoritarianism of his voice and his every move. “I might.” Teasing Noel was a losing battle, as he lost the ability to think about anything else but the smooth drag of Noel’s cock, hitting his prostate on every thrust, making him roll his hips back into it. The bite of his zipper only added to the hot, stifling feeling, the itchiness in his skin of slowly building, impending release. It was addictive. Noel was addictive.

“You /might/,” Noel bit back, thrusting in harder this time, hitting his prostate dead on and making Harry moan, head tipping forward, slipping and falling forward again. He caught himself, hand sweat-slick on the mirror, fogging around his hand almost immediately once he placed it down, forehead equally sweaty, hitting the mirror afterward with a soft thunk. The breath was knocked out of him, Harry left panting now, only obvious with the way his reflection fogged up, face now as blurry as his head felt, heady and high on the feeling of Noel and feeling so, so full. He glanced up, seeing that Noel’s composure was the same, his eyes still on Harry’s face, watching him slowly come undone.

“Is that why you pulled your little fuckin’ song stunt? Huh? You want to take my place?” Another sharp thrust, making Harry’s hand squeak against the mirror when he slumped forward again, breath hot against the mirror. “You think the audience would even let you try, knowing they’ll have me next?” He sped up a little, pace unrelenting. Harry’s breath still hadn’t caught up with him, and when he tried to reply - knowing Noel’s questions were rhetorical but they had him so fucking hard, precome dripping onto the tile below him - it came out on a high, breathy, punched-out moan, fog speading across the mirror so he could barely make out his own eyes, inches away, reflected back to him full of nothing but lust. 

Noel let out something that could have been a short laugh, barked out short and accompanied by him picking up the pace, bite of Noel’s nails in his hips matching the bite of his zipper every time Noel’s hips met his, pushed back every time to meet him halfway, too eager for it. “You think they will? You, messy and fuck-drunk and full of my cum?” It’s met with Noel tangling a hand in Harry’s curls, tugging hard and forcing him up just enough to lock eyes with his own reflection, forced to look at just how fuck-drunk he really looked, even before either of them had finished. Just drunk on the feeling itself, of how it felt to be so thoroughly pulled apart and pieced back together again on Noel’s cock.

And that was what got Harry to cum, harder than he ever had, explosive and messy. His whole body shuddered, forehead hitting the mirror again when Noel let go, scalp tingling from the tight grip. His hand and head slipped just a little bit on the mirror, Noel’s name heavy on his tongue, moaning it out low and quiet, breath not even adding to the foggy mess on the mirror.

Noel finished a few thrusts later, Harry’s body oversensitive and shaky, cumming into him with no regard for cleanup. Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

When Harry could breathe again, when Noel pulled his hands off Harry’s hips, sweat-sticky and a little gross, he stood up, making eye contact with himself in the mirror. He looked like a fucking mess, curls sweat-damp and mussed up everywhere, curling around his temples and stuck to the equally sweaty skin. Sweat had messed with his perfectly placed glitter, too, causing it to drip like tears down his face, slowly drying into his skin as the temperature of the room came down, nothing but chill left in the space between him and Noel. 

“You know, you’re not wearing underwear, Styles,” Noel said, lazy, like he didn’t care much. Harry looked up, seeing Noel equally as lazily tucking himself back into his jeans reflected in the mirror, smeary with fog like an erotic oil painting. “Good luck with the wet patch.”

Harry flushed, brows drawing together slightly. He didn’t have time to reply, though, before someone rapped quickly on the door. “You’re on in five, better hurry!” He could hear their footsteps head back down the hall. Noel only gave him a smirk.

“Better hurry,” he echoed, cocky as ever, running a hand through his hair, eyes on himself in the mirror. Egotistical bastard. “See you around, Styles. Knock the song off your setlist and I’ll see about seeing you again.” He raised a hand as some sort of wave, before he was leaving just as suddenly as he’d appeared, leaving Harry sweaty, covered in glitter, and full of Noel’s cum, satiated and cum-drunk, alone in the empty room.

If Harry had to reach into his bag, find his emergency plug, no one had to know. If Harry put on his show with a little extra fervor, every thrust and movement a jolt right to his gut, feeling like a livewire, no one had to know that, either. But if he texted Noel a picture later, DM’d him, really, hoping his manager wouldn’t check it, just to show him he’d performed that way, still full of Noel, well, definitely no one had to know about that. No one but him, Noel, and the mirror he’d left covered in sweat, glitter, and an imperfect handprint.

**Author's Note:**

> so! how was it? I've never written smut before, aside from the last part, so I hope it worked out. please leave a comment or some kudos if you enjoyed it. i might be convinced to write another part if people want it :)


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